


Reading into it

by Myqueenmarceline



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Bonding, Gay Pulp, Gen, Implied Gay Guy, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:27:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27494956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myqueenmarceline/pseuds/Myqueenmarceline
Summary: Finch finds out what Reese likes to read in his spare time. He's pleasantly surprised.(this is a pre-relationship story, with implied feelings)
Relationships: Harold Finch & John Reese, Harold Finch/John Reese
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	Reading into it

**Author's Note:**

> Damn, it has been FOREVER since I posted a story. Sorry for taking so long, I've just been really tired and struggling to write even a few sentences. I had a lot of fun with this though, and I headcanon that Reese enjoys reading romance novels of all kinds. Still, Reese being low-key bi and him and Finch bonding over gay pulp is just what I needed to create. I hope y'all enjoy reading this.
> 
> Thank you to nebula-gaster for beta reading this, you're awesome!

Harold tried not to sigh as he heard the quiet click of a gun being cocked. “You know, Mr. Reese, that weapon seems thoroughly cleaned to me. I don’t think you need to make another pass.”

John looked up at the sound of his last name, tilting his head a bit. “Am I bothering you, Harold?”

Harold smiled awkwardly, looking back down at his computer. “A bit, yes. I know these firewall updates can be rather dull, but you really should find something else to occupy your free time. I thought a book could be a good distraction, considering we are in a library.”

John smiled at him, that little pleased smile he got when Harold didn't know something. “I’m not sure you’ll have what I like to read.”

“Well, we have quite a selection of books. Even if you aren’t interested in nonfiction, we have a robust collection of various genres. I can help you find what you’re looking for,” Harold said. He doubted John knew how to work a card catalogue, and he was interested to know what John thought could be so obscure that _his_ library wouldn’t carry it.

“No thanks.” John seemed a bit tense, standing up and putting the gun back in its proper drawer in the filing cabinet. “I’ll go find something to read on my own. Let me know if we get a new number.”

He walked away quickly. By the time Harold had managed to grab his cane and push himself up out of his chair, John had disappeared down one of the many hallways. Harold stared after him for a moment, but thought better of it. Constant surveillance aside, he could give John a bit of privacy if he wanted it.

—X—X—

The granola bars in Harold’s desk could only tide him over for so long. Six hours and thirteen minutes after John had left, Harold was getting hungry. The update was going well, and he could spare a few minutes to go ask John what he wanted to eat for dinner.

His back was aching from sitting in the chair for so long, and he winced as he slowly straightened up. He rubbed his back absent-mindedly, then reached for his phone. It wasn't as robust as the Machine, but he had designed a small security system for his library. He pulled up the infrared view of the building. He felt a bit guilty, but he didn’t have any interest in wandering around the stacks, calling John’s name like he was a lost dog.

There was a heat disturbance on one of the lower floors, a sub-basement Harold didn’t think he had even shown John. Harold was using it for storage, though he couldn’t remember what exactly he had put down there. Maybe John had just wandered down there for a nap. Given how promptly he answered the phone whenever Harold called, it made sense that he would need to catch up on sleep.

His cane echoed loudly against the wooden floors as he walked over to the elevator. A long time ago he might have found it eerie, but the reminder that he was still alone was more reassuring. After all, a legally dead man can’t exactly have a lot of friends.

The elevator was rattling a bit more than usual, jostling Harold uncomfortably as it carried him down. Maybe he should ask John to take a look at it… Harold knew John had some mechanical capabilities, and his own specialty laid in software engineering. Perhaps he would ask him over dinner.

Harold knocked twice as a courtesy, then opened the door. “Hello John, I hope I’m not disturbing you. I was wondering—” He cut himself off, just staring at John.

John was sitting on a ratty-looking grey sofa, his feet propped up on the edge of a box of books. His hand was almost entirely covering the cover of the book, but Harold still recognized the shirtless man on the cover. He'd read that book before, a very long time ago, but he’d packed it away in a box with all of his other gay romance books. He'd always been careful to keep this collection separate, reluctant to trust anyone with that part of his identity.

But John had managed to find them. He turned the book over so the cover was face-down, resting one hand over it firmly as if Harold would try to wrestle it from him. Harold wasn’t very good at reading people, but even he could see the alarm in John’s eyes. He wasn’t trying to bait Harold into exposing his identity; he was reading the book for himself.

“Pulp romance novels?” Harold managed, dancing around the subject as best he could.

John nodded, taking his feet off the box and sitting up straight. “It’s something I don’t have to think too hard about. They’re relaxing to read.”

That made sense. Harold enjoyed challenging his mind with new puzzles and complicated stories, but he knew he was in the minority. With John’s military background, having something you could pick up and put down at random was probably quite useful.

Harold walked over to the couch. John sat up straighter, pressing the book a bit harder into the couch. Harold sat on the other side, so the book was between them.

“Please don’t crush that.” Harold tapped the back of John’s hand.

“Sorry.” John pulled his hand back, resting it stiffly on his thigh.

Harold picked up the book and smoothed out the back cover out of habit. Paperbacks were so easy to damage, and the gay pulp Harold had managed to get his hands on was particularly fragile. They were printed in a budget, and it showed. Once he’d fixed it as much as he could he passed the book back to John, who quickly put it back into the box.

They sat in silence for a minute, each staring straight ahead. Harold wanted to ask, but he knew it wasn’t any of his business. He’d never been very involved in the community, so he wasn’t quite sure how to subtly let John know that it was alright. John’s hands were resting in his lap, looking stiffer than he had been in quite a long time.

Harold took a deep breath, and finally spoke. “If you enjoy these, I happen to have a few original copies of John Preston upstairs. They’re a bit fragile, but if you promise to treat them with respect I can lend them to you.”

John turned to look at him, and Harold was struck by the small half-smile on his face. They were already perilously close, and Harold felt a selfish desire to keep John’s close to him. He swallowed, hoping his anxiety wasn’t too palpable.

“That would be nice. Thanks, Harold.” John hesitantly extended one hand, and when Harold didn’t flinch away he patted his shoulder twice. It was an awkward and rather rough gesture, but at least it was genuine.

“It’s no problem, John. Please let me know what you think of them.” Harold wanted to add something else, but he wasn’t quite sure what to say. He supposed it didn’t matter too much; they would certainly have more time together while working on cases. For tonight, just sitting next to each other in silent understanding an acceptance was enough. He waited a moment longer, savouring the feeling before finally getting their conversation back on track. “So, would you like pizza or Thai for supper?”


End file.
